was not at all how she’d pictured this happening. She hadn’t thought beyond seeing him, hadn’t thought he would force her to tell him her news standing in the darkness and watching men tap golf balls toward a little hole in the ground.
She also hadn’t expected him to be so hostile. So cold.
Lia swallowed against the fear clogging her throat. She had to be brave. She’d already endured so much just to get to this point. There was no going back now.
“Apparently not,” she said, imbuing her voice with iron. “Because I am most assuredly pregnant.”
“How do you know it’s mine?”
His voice was a whip in the darkness, his words piercing her. “Because there has been no one else,” she shot back, fury and hurt roiling like a storm-tossed sea in her belly.
“We spent two nights together, Lia. And we used condoms.” His eyes were hard, furious.
“There was once,” she said, her skin warming. “Once when you, um, when we—”
She couldn’t finish the thought. But he knew. He looked stunned. And then he closed his eyes, and she knew he remembered.
“Christ.”
There’d been one time when they’d been sleeping and he’d grown hard against her as they slowly wakened. He’d slipped inside her, stroked into her lazily a few times, and then withdrew and put on a condom. It had been so random, so instinctive, that neither of them thought about it afterward.
“Exactly,” she said softly, exhaustion creeping into her limbs. Why hadn’t she just stayed at the hotel and slept? Her plan had always been to see him privately, but when she’d seen the announcement in the paper about his speech tonight, she’d become focused on getting here and telling him the news. On sharing this burden with someone who could help her.
But that wasn’t the only reason.
For an entire month, she’d missed him. Missed his warm skin, the scent of soap and man, the way he skimmed his fingers over her body, the silky glide of his lips against hers.
The erotic pulse of his body inside hers, taking her to heights she’d never before experienced.
Lia shivered, though it was not cold. A drop of sweat trickled between her breasts. She felt … moist. And she definitely needed to sit down.
Zach stood ramrod straight on the terrace before her. “You may be pregnant, but that doesn’t make the baby mine,” he said. She swallowed down the nausea that had been her constant companion—it was lessening thanks to medication the doctor had prescribed—and tried to bring him into focus. “We were together two nights. How do I know you didn’t have another lover?”
Lia’s heart ached. She’d known he might not take the news well—what man would when a spontaneous encounter with a stranger turned life-altering in such a huge way?—but she hadn’t expected him to accuse her of having another lover. Of basically coming all this way to lie to him.
“I need to get out of this heat,” she choked out, turning blindly. She couldn’t stand here and defend herself when she just wanted to sit down somewhere cool. When her heart hurt and her stomach churned and she wanted to cry.
She’d only taken a few steps toward the door when she felt as if the bottom was dropping out from under her. Lia shot a hand out and braced herself on the railing near the door as nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She turned to lean against it, grateful for the solid barrier holding her up.
“What’s wrong?”
She looked up to find Zach standing over her, his stern face showing concern where moments ago it had only been anger.
Lia put a shaky hand to her forehead. “I’m hormonal, Zach. And you aren’t helping matters.”
He blew out a breath. And then his hand wrapped around her elbow as he pulled her to his side. “Come on.”
He led her away from the door and then in through another door farther down. It led into a dark bar with tables and chairs and only a few patrons. Zach steered her to a table in the corner, far from anyone, and sat her down.
“Wait here.”
She was too tired to argue so she did as he ordered, propping her head against one palm as she fought her queasy stomach.
He returned with a glass and a bottle of San Pellegrino, opening it and pouring it for her. She took a grateful sip, let the cold bubbly water slide down her throat and extinguish the fire in her belly.
Zach sank into the chair across from her. His arms were folded over what she remembered was an impressive chest when it was bare. His stare was not in the least bit friendly as he watched her. She thought of the military medal she’d tucked into her purse and pictured him in a flight suit, standing tall and proud beside a sleek fighter jet.
“Better?” he asked shortly.
She nodded. “Somewhat, yes.”
“Good.” His eyes narrowed. “Why should I believe this baby is mine, Lia?”
Her heart thudded. There was no reason she could actually give him. Because I was a virgin. Because you are the only man I’ve ever been with. “A paternity test should clear it up,” she said coolly, though inside she was anything but cool. “I will submit the first moment it is safe to do so.”
He turned his head and stared off into space. His profile was sharp, handsome. His hair was still cut in that military style, short and cropped close. On him, it was perfect. Not for the first time, she wondered what he’d seen in her. No doubt he was wondering the same thing.
“You seem to have it all thought out,” he said evenly. Coldly.
Lia clutched the glass in her hands. “Not really. All I know is we created a baby together. And our baby deserves to have both parents in his or her life.”
It was the one thought that had sustained her on the long trip from Sicily. The one thing she’d had to cling to when everything else was falling apart.
Zach would want his child. She’d told herself that over and over.
But she didn’t really know if it was true.
What if he was exactly like her father and just didn’t care about the life he’d helped to create? Despair rose up inside her soul. How could this be the same man she’d lain in bed with? That man had been warm, mysterious, considerate. He wouldn’t abandon a helpless baby.
But this man …
She shivered. This one was cold and hard and mean.
He looked at her evenly. Across the room, a few people sat at tables or lounged at the bar. One woman leaned in toward the man across from her and said something that made him laugh. How Lia envied that woman. She was with a man who wanted her, a man who was happy she was there.
“I don’t know what you expect, Lia, but I’m not the father type. Or the husband type.” His voice was low and icy, his emotions so carefully controlled she had no idea if he felt anything at all.
“You don’t have a choice about being a father,” she said, her throat aching.
His dark eyes glittered. And then he smiled. A cruel smile. “There is always a choice. This is the twenty-first century, not the dark ages. You don’t have to have this child. You don’t have to keep this child.”
His words seared into her. Lia shot to her feet and clutched her tiny purse to her like a shield. Her hands were trembling. Her body was trembling.
“I want this baby, Zach. I intend to give my child the best life possible. With or without you,” she added, her throat tightening over the words. Though she didn’t know how she was going to do that. She had nothing. The money she had from her mother wasn’t in her control. She didn’t even know how much there was; her grandfather had always managed